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Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of Elemental , Part 1 of The Valleyverse , Part 6 of B2MeM Contributions , Part 6 of Artworks
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Back to Middle-earth Month 2017: Night and Day
Stats:
Published:
2018-09-11
Completed:
2018-09-11
Words:
2,486
Chapters:
6/6
Comments:
23
Kudos:
29
Bookmarks:
4
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464

Elemental

Summary:

"Each morning, Maglor started off along the beach, following the ebb and flow of the waves. Every day he walked until he grew tired and needed a rest. Then he sat, watching the sea and the sky, and then he walked again."

Notes:

Please heed the tags and the following notes; no further warnings are given for this story.

This is a photo story, so image-heavy. I down-sized the images for your convenience; clicking on them gives you the full view, which I recommend, as I think they work best in a large size. Also, both parts of the story have been split into short chapters to give the photos room to work.
The story can be read without the photos, too; I've tried to give a concise description in the alt-tags.

Disclaimer: This is a work of transformative fiction based on JRR Tolkien’s creation, done purely for enjoyment. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.

Notes:
This is somewhat experimental in style, also in being a joint text/photo story. The first part, titled Water Music, was originally a vignette for a SWG challenge I did not complete. Following the inspiration of two B2MeM 2017 prompts as well as a visit to the Lofotes last summer, this part has now been rewritten and continued in the second part, both completed by photos I took on that journey.
The idea of Maglor coming out of whatever mental state he had been in after the events of the First Age and the Oath of Fëanor - the loss of his brothers, the deeds they have done under the oath and so on - has always intrigued me. I do not follow the fanon idea of Maglor being guilt-ridden and severely depressed for the rest of his life, or the largest part of it; but I do believe that there must have been a time when dealing with the immense loss he has suffered, and the likely immense guilt he carries, must have affected his mental state to a significant degree. Conveying this into tale is difficult, and I am trying here an approach that feels natural to me.
I’m trying to write this from the point of view of a person coming out of deep depression, and after having been lost in a deep mental turmoil. I’m not talking about some specific mental state or illness, but just wrote what felt natural to me for the character. I’m also basing this to a small degree on personal experience, as I suffered from a more or less severe depression for several years; and Maglor finding a way back into normal life on my own experience of doing the same. I have never been half as deep down as the Maglor in my story has been, though, or have been as badly affected as so many others living with depression.
These two vignettes only show Maglor’s first steps in that direction; two more parts already exist as drafts, but might not be finished for a while.

Many thanks to curiouswombat for beta reading and for generally being awesome!

All images are mine.  
Please click on the images for full view.

Chapter 1: Part one: Sea - Memory

Chapter Text

Header banner: peaceful seascape with title and author on it

 

 

 

Sea

Flat, wide beach at the cusp of dawn with a faintly coloured sky

He was woken by the cries of gulls. Some mornings, it was gulls; some mornings, just the sea. He lay still, eyes closed, listening. Waves were rolling up the beach, gently moving the pebbles with a soft, swishing, sound. A familiar sound, like - music? He was not sure. He remembered music - but there was also so much he had forgotten, and sometimes, he could not tell if he remembered correctly. The waves evoked another memory, of somebody floating in the water, long hair streaming behind, unfathomable eyes the colour of the sea. Sounds, like the swishing pebbles, the waves, the wind. A voice, barely distinguishable from the sound of water, joining him in song. A voice he had known since he was small. He remembered listening to it on another beach and, later, on The Day of The Blood. But that memory would not come.

He opened his eyes, following the gull sailing across above him. It was early still, the sun sending her first rays over the horizon, and the air was fresh and cool. The sky was painted in colours both soft and so beautiful that it hurt, but he thought it was a good kind of pain, a pain that kindled something in him, some urge. But he could not remember what this was either. With a sigh, he sat up, wondering distinctly why he did not remember so many things. At least, by now, he did remember some.

Before, there had been just a grey fog. By and by, he became aware that there was fog, and then the fog went away, gradually, returning memories to him. Memories and sensations. Hunger, thirst, tiredness, cold, warmth. His sense of self, of being a person. The passing of time, day and night. He slept when it was dark, and walked when the day came, found water to drink and food to eat. Not much food, though; he found he could not bear to eat anything that had lived, and there was not much else. Moss, seeds, a few berries or mushrooms, but mostly seaweed and bark. He remembered roots and broke himself a stick to dig for them. He found and egg and ate it, but then he remembered that they were alive as well, and was sick.

He wondered why he would not eat living things, and then another memory came. Maglor. He was Maglor. He had not thought about his name, or any other, not since Before. It had not been important. Remembering who he was brought more memories, of pain and blood and guilt, and for a while, he went back into the fog because he could not bear it.

oOo